Don't Let Fate Decide
by AvelinAeliaLisalynn
Summary: Now all seven of them are caught in a web of lies, deception, and love; and with war on the horizon there are only so many ways the cards play out with a happy ending. Krinx, PewDieCry, Markimash, alone!Ken, dead!Marzia. T for language and fighting. Steampunk-ish/Kingdom AU. Full summary inside :)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi! This is my now not so super secret September fic that I was talking about. I hope you enjoy :)**

Full Summary: Minx is a bounty hunter and hired assassin who does whatever she needs to survive. Krinx is the pretty yet clever mechanic who is the daughter of one of Emera's most famous inventors. Mark is a general in the royal army who has conflicting alliances. Felix is a comedian known as PewDiePie who is scared to move on from the death of his wife. Ken is the ambassador from Doris who is trying to work out a peace treaty. Cry is an urban legend who lives behind his mask. And Aaron is just the poor, love struck librarian who's father happened to begin this entire mess by hiring Minx to kidnap Krism.

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><p>Alarm clocks.<p>

Krism hated them with a passion, but her father had designed one especially for her, resilient enough that she could pick it up and throw it across the room and it would continue to ring out it's annoying melody. But every morning, and this one was no different, she still grabbed the cold metal in one hand and launched it into the far wall.

The melody went up another pitch before the song ended, and Krism moaned before rolling out of bed and onto her feet. She took a moment to look at herself in the mirror- with her red eyes, dark black tangled hair and gray nightdress, she looked like she belonged on the screen of a horror silent film. She bared her teeth, just for the effect, but was nearly scared witless when the ringing began again. Sighing, Krism retrieved the alarm clock and twisted the dials on its side to turn it off.

"Honey, there are more letters and invitations for you!" called out her mom from downstairs, sounding a tad exasperated.

"Just a second!" called out Krism, quickly changing into a casual dark grey shirt and pants, combing her hair while slipping on her shoes at the same time. She grabbed her mechanics bag and checked the clock on the wall above her door- 6:35. Good, she wouldn't be late for work.

Krism took the stairs three at a time, leaping into the living room. Dropping her bag down on the floor, she pulled out her chair and plunked down, beginning to devour the eggs in front of her. Her mother Maria wore a long green dress, her hair just beginning to show bits of gray. She was busy at the stove, cooking more food.

"What are they this time?" asked Krism, once her plate was sparkling clean. Since she was the daughter of Allen Pro, the most famous inventor in all of Emera, people were always trying to be friends with her and she had a constant stream of mail.

"Some lord's birthday party."

"Ignore."

"An invitation to some fashion thing."

"Nah."

"An invitation to an exclusive show by that comedian, PewDiePie, and the party after."

Krism froze for a second. "When?" she finally asked.

"Tomorrow night," replied Maria. "You going?"

"Do I have a decent dress?" asked Krism, replying with a question of her own.

"That dark black one with the green streaks would be good. Or that gold one with the hood," replied her mother, a thoughtful look on her face.

"I like the gold one, I'll wear that," said Krism. "Who sent the invite?"

"Hmm.." said her mother, flipping the card over. "It's anonymous," she replied.

"What's anonymous?" asked her father as he stepped into the room. He wore a leather vest and long pants, his signature hat on his head and his goggles around his neck. Krism could tell that he'd just been in his workshop by the soot stains decorating his vest.

"The invitation to PewDiePie's exclusive show, and the party after," answered Maria.

"That's wonderful. Finally all those invites are paying off," said Allen with a smile. "Hurry along to work, honey, or else you'll be late."

Krism looked at the clock, and sure enough, it was 6:52. She gave both her parents goodbyes and picked up her bag, going off to work with a light and happy heart, excited about the show.

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><p>The mid-morning air was crisp and cool as Minx ran across the rooftops, jumping from shadow to shadow as they shrunk in the morning sun. Eventually, she arrived at her destination, a small wooden trapdoor in the corner of a wooden roof, the only clue that it was there the small polished hinge and handle. Minx kicked the top of the door, not hard enough to leave a dent (though she could've left the door in shards), but hard enough that the bartender, Dlive, could hear her. "Open up you dumbass, it's Minx!" she called out after a moments wait.<p>

The door opened, and a black haired head appeared. "You don't have to announce yourself, you're the only one who kicks the door, you know," muttered Dlive, flipping open the trap door before climbing back down the creaking ladder. Minx opted to skip the ladder and just jumped down into the bar, pulling the door shut behind her. She dusted off her pants and flipped her purple bangs before sliding into her usual seat.

"Whadaya mean, no one else kicks the door?" asked Minx, sipping the drink that appeared before her. The bar was almost always empty at this time of day, and sure enough there was no one sitting at any of the tables, or at the bar next to her.

"Regular people ring the bell," said Dlive, disappearing under the counter for a moment before appearing again with a letter in his hand.

Minx froze, her drink inches from her lips. "There's a bell?" she asked incredulously. Dlive face palmed himself.

"Yes, Minx; there's a bell," he said, sliding the letter across the bar. "This is a job offer I thought you might be interested in." Minx took one look at the printed letter and opened her mouth, about to complain, but Dlive quickly said, "I know, I know, you aren't a hired thug and you don't take kidnapping jobs, but it looks pretty interesting."

"That's not a good enough reason to-" Minx's sentence stopped abruptly as she stared, jaw open, at the letter. "4 platinum!?" she screeched at last.

"That's what I mean by interesting- someone really really rich really really wants her kidnapped, enough to pay quadruple what a killing usually is," finalized Dlive.

"She's the daughter of Allen Pro, so I can understand that it would be expensive," began Minx, "But 4 platinum?!"

"So, will you do it or will your pride stop you?" asked Dlive, leaning forward.

"I'll do it, thanks," said Minx absentmindedly as she got up to pace around the empty bar while holding the letter. "But I'll need to wear a dress for this party, ick... I'll see if can loan me that car again... Deliver her to the temple of the Ghost? Interesting..." Minx climbed up the ladder and out of the bar, still muttering to herself, leaving only a half drunken drink and an opened envelope behind to show she was ever there.

**A/N: So? What do you think? I have so many ideas for this story, and I'm super excited and hope you are too :) Thanks for reading! Some of you who read the first version of this know I changed the bartender from Entoan to Dlive. It was just a personal preference thing with no large impact on the story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm so happy that this is getting positive reviews :) Thank you so much. For those who didn't know, I broke my ankle, that's why my updates have taken forever :( But anyways, here is Chapter Two.**

Cry didn't hate Marzia.

No matter how deep in love he fell with her husband, Cry couldn't hate her. She was sweet, smart, a wonderful person, and most of all she made Felix happy. The few interactions they had were always kind and courteous, and Cry simply couldn't muster the energy to hate her. So Cry felt guilty when a small part of him smiled at the news of her death. Sure, Felix would never like him as more then a friend, but he was free. Single.

_And mourning the death of his beloved wife,_ whispered a voice in his head. Because Felix had loved his wife to the core, Cry knew this for a fact. _It would be like if Felix died,_ said same dark voice. He shut it out, told it to be quiet and just get out of his head, but every time he closed his eyes, pictures of Felix crying and mourning her danced before him.

He was the Ghost of the Streets. He was supposed to be strong and mysterious, a protector of the people and a disciple of Iselle. Not a weakling who cried at a broken heart. _What would your goddess think of that, eh?_ taunted the voice. _Iselle, fierce goddess of the people, and you, a useless weepy bitch._

_Shut it,_ Cry told the voice ferociously. _Shut the fuck up_. He was tempted to show up on Felix's door with a bag of sweets and a smile, to comfort him and help him move on, but the voice was right- he had a job, and it wasn't to cry over such trivial things as love.

The air was heavy with mist, a sign of rain to come. Cry walked slowly, the afternoon light falling in ribbons across the garden. He stopped just a moment by a rose bush, plucking a flower to smell. He loved it here, in this secretive garden. When life was too hard he'd slip away here to rest, stealing moments throughout the week.

"Ghost?" whispered a childish voice. Cry whipped his head around, turning to face the intruder, but it was naught but one of the young orphans, Ria. She clutched to her chest a small doll, and her eyes were wide with fear.

"What is it, little one?" Cry asked, crouching down to meet her height. He never understood why children were scared of him. It was probably the mask.

"There's someone lookin' for yah. At the temple," said Ria, trying her best to look brave.

"Thanks," grinned Cry, even though she couldn't see his smile. Digging into his pocket and flipping her a copper, he turned around and began walking towards the exit. Once Ria was out of earshot he sighed loudly, a scowl filling his face. He loved his job, but a moment of peace every once in a while would be nice.

_It's not peace, it's mourning. Mourning the death of Marzia and your already broken heart._

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><p>It wasn't Aaron's fault that Mark was so goddamn hot.<p>

Mark being Mark Fisbach, young second in command of the royal army. Only half of Aaron's brain was focused on re-shelving the books in the royal library- the other half was off fantasizing about a dark haired heartthrob. What had his sister Jenny called this? That's right, a "star-crush." Aaron rolled his eyes and gave a good natured sigh. His sister may have gotten the brains of the family (only 17 and she was an official royal scientist), but she was still very much a teenage girl.

Aaron's thoughts on Mark and star-crushes in general were rudely interrupted as a pen went flying past his face.

"Hey!" yelped Aaron as he turned to face his attacker, who was currently sitting on top of one of the study tables in an out of place fancy blue and silver dress. "If you want fashion advice, go to mum," he muttered, realizing it was just Jenny. But as he resumed putting the leather-bound books on the cart back onto the wooden shelves, another pen flew past him, this one dangerously close to his ear.

"Come on, Aaron; you spend all your time down in this dusty old book cave, the least you can do is help me pick out my clothes," whined Jenny.

"Three things, Jenny," said Aaron, whirling around to face her. "First, this is the royal library and I'm a royal librarian, so of course I spend time around here." His sister opened her mouth, but Aaron continued. "Second, that dress looks fine, and third, who are you trying to impress anyways?"

"You're no fun. Fine, I'll go to mum," sighed Jenny, jumping down from the table and easily deflecting his question.

"You're starting to sound like one of those stupid court ladies," proclaimed Aaron.

"Whatever," Jenny called out over her back.

Aaron sighed. He loved his sister, he truly did. It was just sometimes hard to remember that. At least now he could have some peace. But only seconds after his sister left the room, he was interrupted once again. "Sisters, am I right?" chuckled a deep voice, coming from somewhere behind him.

Aaron grinned. "But we love 'em anyways," he said, not daring to believe it, but when he turned around, there he stood- Mark Fisbach. _The_ Mark Fisbach. Sexy, strong, standing there in his glasses and signature smile. Aaron's face began to heat up and a thousand questions were exploding inside his head, but he shoved them out of the way (and closed his open mouth) because Mark was speaking, and like hell he wasn't going to hang on to every single word.

"She's the girl genius, then?" asked Mark. Aaron almost sighed aloud, dreams crushed, ready to answer all of the questions Mark would surely have about Jenny; but when the General said his next words anything Aaron would have said died in his throat. "Because you're Aaron."

The concept was so foreign, when he mustered up the capacity to speak, it came out as more of a squeak then anything else. "Y-You know my name?" Aaron's jaw was to the floor and he was gaping openly, because no one had ever recognized Jenny through him- scratch that, no one even knew who he was.

"Of course," grinned Mark so casually, as if it were something obvious the young librarian should've known.

Aaron shook his head, still in shock. "No one ever notices me next to Jenny. Not even my father," he said, eyes wide as he stared at his idol.

At this Mark frowned. "Well that's no fair, Aaron," he said, sounding genuinely worried. "From what I've seen of you you're quite the nice guy- dedicated to your job, always smiling, and you love your sister even though she positively _hogs_ the spotlight." The word hog was said playfully, with an exaggerated face. And that was all it took for Aaron to positively melt, laughing and grinning because no one had ever understood him, and in just a few words Mark had easily explained everything he felt. The General was so much more then he expected. His voice, his smile... oh, Aaron was gone. Very, very gone.

And then it happened.

"So, do you want to hang out sometime? I know a nice little bar, albeit overrun by bounty hunters. If you want, we could go tomorrow, just meet me in the gardens at like 5:00," said Mark.

Later, after replaying the scene hundreds of times in his head, Aaron would notice that the normally confident man was blushing, and that the General indeed stumbled over a few of his words. But at that moment, Aaron's heart just stopped as time seemed to slow, and every ounce of his attention was in the moment. "I think there would have to be something seriously wrong with me to say anything but a very empathetic fuck yes. Tomorrow at 5:00 is perfect."

The smile on Mark's face was big enough to light up the entire room.

**A/N: Well? Leave some suggestions if you'd like, I love reviews :) As always, thanks for reading!**


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